


More Than You Get

by daisysusan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Liam have sex against a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than You Get

**Author's Note:**

> I commentficced this for [harriet_vane](archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane) and ... it's a thing. That happened. Thanks to [misprinting](archiveofourown.org/users/Chathoi/pseuds/Misprinting) for reading it over quickly, and apologies to everyone else.

It's still weird to think of Harry as taller but it's never been clearer to Liam than it is now, with Harry pressed up against him and holding his wrists against the wall above his head. He's having to tilt his head up, just a little, to kiss Harry, and the grip Harry has on his hands is firm, unwavering. 

Everything about it feels weirdly inevitable, like this was always going to happen, from the moment Harry realized he was taller than Liam and started to take horrible advantage of it.

Kissing Harry is exactly like Liam had always thought it would be—lots of things happening all at once, tongues and teeth and hands everywhere, but good despite the messiness. He wants to reach down, thread his fingers through Harry's hair and tug his head back to kiss down his neck, but Harry's still got his hands pinned. 

It's not until Liam feels a hand against his stomach, thumb against the strip of skin where his shirt's ridden up, that he realizes Harry's holding his wrists above his head with only one hand. He makes a small noise and presses into the kiss harder, teeth grazing Harry's lower lip. 

Harry matches him press for press, rucking Liam's shirt up farther and pulling away from Liam's mouth to trail a messy line of kisses and bites and licks across his jaw. He stops only after he's licked the shell of Liam's ear, which definitely did not make Liam shudder or go a little limp against the wall. 

Liam can't quite catch his breath, and he doesn't know if it's from Harry leaning against him or the kissing or how much he doesn't want any of it to stop.

It's hard to get enough focus to reciprocate, pull his attention away from Harry's hands and lips and skin and the weight of his body against Liam's, but he wants to, he wants to taste the skin of Harry's neck and feel the muscles of his back and—

Harry's sucking a lovebite into the soft skin just below Liam's ear and it must already be furiously red by now but he hasn't stopped, sucking and licking and— _Christ_ , that's his teeth, he's biting properly. If it were anyone else, Liam would hoist them up and maybe spin so they were propped against the wall, legs around his waist, but he can't. Harry's too tall, the balance would be all wrong, and he doesn't seem interested in moving from where he's got Liam pinned. 

Not being able to move properly is strangely—unexpectedly—heady, though it's possible that's the leg Harry's pushed between his, making it easier for Liam to rub against his hip. He makes a soft, needy noise into it, the pressure a relief and maddening at the same time.

Harry responds in kind, grinding against Liam and going slightly slack into their kiss. Liam can't see his face—his eyes are closed, they're too close—but he can imagine it, Harry's eyes huge and dark, his mouth swollen from kissing and hanging open, his cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. 

Liam wants to touch, desperately, wants to pull Harry in closer and hold him there until they're shaking and coming and collapsing to the floor—but he can't because Harry won't let go of him. The best he can do is a horrible, bordering on pathetic writhing motion that brings their hips together properly for a few moments. Harry groans at the contact, though, and that gives Liam hope that maybe something good will come of it. 

Something good turns out to be that Harry starts talking, his voice rougher and lower than Liam's ever heard it. 

"Fuck," he says, "Liam, you should see yourself."

Liam swallows hard and tries to focus on something besides the timbre of Harry's voice and the rhythmic motions of his hips. 

"God, you want to touch me, don't you?" Harry continues. "It's really fucking hot, that you want to put your hands on me this much, but I kind of like not letting you."

It's like Liam's entire brain has turned to static and he can't process anything outside of Harry's words. His hips are probably going faster, and he may have started whimpering with every gyration, but all he can think about is Harry's voice, hot against his ear.

"You wanna try something else?" Harry says, and Liam nods, because it's impossible to keep from nodding when Harry's voice is like that, a little unsteady, breath warm against his skin. 

Without warning, Harry's not pinning Liam's wrists to the wall anymore, because he’s moving his hands to hoist Liam's legs up around his hips and press forward so their torsos are flush together, pushing Liam back into the wall. Liam didn't think this could work, didn't think Harry was strong enough, but he doesn't seem to be struggling. He just tilts his head up to kiss Liam again, swallowing the noises Liam can't stop himself making. 

It's unlike anything he's ever done, hoisted up and pinned between Harry's chest and the wall, arms around Harry's neck to keep his balance—it seems like he needs them but he might not. Liam tangles his fingers in the ends of Harry's hair, slightly damp against his neck, and moves his hips as best he can. 

His reward is the guttural noise Harry makes, a choked groan into Liam's mouth. 

They rock against each other slowly, mouths moving together, for what feels like hours of tortuously not-quite-enough friction until Liam realizes through his haze of arousal that neither of them's going to come from this and if someone is going to start using hands, it'll have to be him. Harry's hands are tight against Liam's thighs, gripping to keep them around his waist.

Liam reluctantly pulls one of his hands off Harry's neck and trails it down until it's pressed tight between their stomachs. His trousers are still fully done, as are Harry's, and the thought of attempting the buttons and zips while balanced on Harry's hips is daunting. 

Probably worth the effort, though, Liam thinks, even if he has to stop kissing Harry to do it. He works his hand into the nonexistent space between their hands so he can fumble at the button of Harry's jeans until it comes free. The zip is easier, in theory, but Harry won't stop moving his hips. Eventually it's undone and Liam can feel the heat of Harry's cock through his boxers, can feel the damp spot near the tip. Getting the jeans down is futile, especially with Liam's legs tight around Harry's hips, but now he can work his hand around Harry's cock, gripping the head and letting Harry fuck into his hand as he rolls his hips against Liam's. 

Harry exhales sharply. "Fuck, Liam," he says, lips against Liam's but completely slack. "Feels so good—"

Liam cuts him off with another kiss, because it feels incredible but so does Harry's mouth against his, their tongues moving together. He twists his wrist the next time Harry's hips jerk forward and then Harry's keening into his mouth and going a bit limp as he covers Liam's hand with warm wetness. 

They end up on the floor, which Liam might have been smug about having anticipated if he wasn't so hard that the room is spinning, but he is, and Harry's flopped in front of him looking completely fucked-out—sweaty and loose and smiley and—

Harry's crawling down to lie on his stomach on the floor and it's a testament to how distracted Liam is that it takes him until Harry's hand is down his trousers to realize what's happening. 

"Wanna suck you off," Harry says.

"Yeah, okay," Liam chokes out and then Harry's mouth is on him. There was probably some in-between where Harry pulled his dick out but everything's gone kind of fuzzy from the feel of Harry's tongue against him. Liam inhales shakily and tries to keep his hips from jerking up. Harry is sucking a little sloppily, but he clearly knows what he's doing. He swirls his tongue around the head once and Liam is already so, so close, it's like torture. 

Harry seems to know it, too, because he doesn't speed up. It's either or that, or he's too lazily post-orgasmic to do anything but soft messy sucking that's driving Liam mad by being not quite enough that he's ever going to come. 

And then Harry's looking up at him, his eyes wide and a little unfocused but happy, and he puts a hand around the base of Liam's cock and jerks him a few times. Liam has no idea if it's the eye contact or the hand or the tiny noise Harry makes when Liam's hips jerk up but not-quite-enough becomes too much and everything goes a bit hazy around him as he comes. 

He's still breathing heavy when Harry kisses him. Liam's first instinct is to push him away—he can taste the come on Harry's lips—but Harry is insistent and it's not unpleasant, not with the way Harry's hand is tracing the side of his neck and his lips are warm and soft. 

"We should move," Liam says weakly. The floor is starting to make his bum hurt a bit, and Harry's draped over him in a way that isn't especially comfortable.

"Do we have to?" Harry whines.

"Yes," Liam says, but it's probably five minutes before they manage to drag themselves off the floor and onto the bed. Once there, Harry curls up half on top of Liam and barely manages to tuck his face into Liam's shoulder before his breathing evens out and Liam knows he's asleep.

This part feels less inevitable, somehow, and that makes Liam like it all the more. He presses a kiss into Harry’s curls and wraps an arm around his shoulders, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.


End file.
